His words are dirty, but damn, they make me feel like a princess. Soon, he picks up the pace, gathering me into his arms and burying his face in my neck like I weigh nothing. I give up the fight of holding back my moans because Lukin isn’t giving me any choice. He fucks me like he’s kissed me, and I swear I’ve missed him too.
By the time I’m shattering into my second orgasm, Lukin falls with me, his big body shuddering above mine as the pleasure overcomes him. We collapse together in a heap and nowords need to be said. Lukin simply gathers me into his arms and we drift off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Six - Lukin
She’s still asleep when I wake.
Zoe lies curled on her side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, her face soft in the early light spilling through the curtains. Her breathing is slow, even. Peaceful. It’s a rare thing, and I find myself just staring, trying to etch the moment into memory.
My hand drifts down to her belly, warm and round beneath the sheets. I lower my head and kiss it—soft, careful not to wake her. My child. My wife. The two things I never thought I’d have again now lying in one bed with me.
The house is quiet. The kind of quiet that follows violence.
The Italians are finished. What’s left of their faction won’t be raising their heads again. We swept through their base like a storm—no warning, no mercy. I saw fear in their eyes before we pulled the triggers. That fear… it bought us peace.
But peace doesn’t settle me.
Even after last night—after Zoe finally came back to me, after her hands gripped me like she never wanted to let go—I’m still restless. Like there’s something missing.
I slip out of bed, careful not to stir her. The water from the shower is hot, but it doesn’t burn enough to shake the edge off.
By midmorning, I’m in my office, but I’m not working. The files on the table blur together, unread. I try to force myself into focus—on the money, the routes, the new shipment from the ports—but my mind won’t stop drifting back to her. Her laugh, once soft and unguarded. Her sketchbook filled with cutedresses and nursery designs. Her voice when she told me the baby kicked.
I want that again.
I want her happy. Safe. Mine without fear in her eyes.
By noon, I give up pretending to work. I push the chair back and walk to the window. Pull the curtain aside.
The garden stretches out below, sun-drenched and blooming. Like a mirage, Zoe appears. I press closer to the glass as I spot her, and my heart softens with an emotion I dare not name. She’s barefoot, one hand trailing across the tops of the hedges, the other resting protectively over her stomach.
She doesn’t see me watching.
The breeze plays with the hem of her dress, and the sunlight catches in her hair. There’s something softer about her now. Something quieter, more present. And it gnaws at the armor I’ve spent my whole damn life forging.
I’ve had women. Too many to count. But never this.
Never someone who doesn’t have to say a single word to wreck me.
She moves slowly, lost in thought, and all I can do is stand here like a fool behind the glass, watching her as if she might vanish. Something tugs deep in my chest—familiar, but unwanted. I look away before she can turn around and see the crack forming in my composure.
But instead of returning to work, I grab my secure phone and call my daughter. Maria.
Maria is the reason why Zoe hasn’t let her guard down. Maria is the reason Zoe’s smile isn’t full. Yet. I just have to talk to her. To make her understand that we didn’t plan for this, but it’s happened, and there’s no going back. I’m not letting Zoe go.
Maria is doing really well in France, according to the weekly pictures and updates she sends me. I miss her, but honestly, I’m grateful she’s absent during this time. It would have been a lot harder for Zoe if she was here.
Maria answers on the third ring. “Daddy!” she squeals. “Look who finally remembers I exist,” she teases. “Calling because you miss me?”
“I do miss you,” I answer coolly. “And we talk every day.”
“Texting isn’t the same as calling. It’s nice to hear your voice.”
I sigh. “Are you okay? Is anyone bothering you?”
“Dad,” she groans. “Ugh, I’m fine. Everything is perfect. I’m happier now that I don’t have bodyguards following my every move.”
I swallow a smile. Of course, I have guards in France protecting her from the shadows. She doesn’t know that and she won’t unless there’s a problem and they have to show themselves. Until then…
